Harry Potter and the Lost Emerald
by Madi Black
Summary: With the war looming, members of the Order search for a weapon that will aid Harry in his defeat of Voldemort. With Dumbledore alive, Sirius' help from beyond the veil, his daughter who lived, and Merlin himself, Harry Potter can achieve his destiny.
1. A Startling Surprise

Hello everyone! Yes, this is another story. I had originally written it months ago, when I had posted the story "Harry Potter and the Emerald Link" – now, I have changed it to "Harry Potter and the Lost Emerald". This was my spin off the books themselves, and I'd like your opinion on this chapter. Whatever feedback I get will spur me onto posting other chapters! Enjoy!

Chapter 1: A Startling Surprise

A warm summer's breeze disturbed the dust and rubble that littered the ground as the sun began to set on the fourth day of August in the bustling suburb of Thornhill, Ontario. Many of the occupants of the street had gone inside and the few that remained were putting garden tools away for the evening or giving their children one last run around the front yard to tucker them out before putting them to sleep. The sun's fading light trickled over the street and reflected off the windows of the surrounding houses of number 77 Rimmington Drive. Finally, as the sun disappeared behind the many trees that stood upon a hill in front of the small street, all sound seemed to evaporated from the very air, and the breeze, that was once calm and soothing, disappeared as darkness slithered through the yards of the houses, bringing with it the smell of congealed blood and the acrid smell of singed human skin. Shadows crept stealthily along the grounds, growing larger as they approached a plain looking brown house that lay home to a thick, lush garden with crimson red leaves and majestic willowy purple flowers that reached towards the impending shadows like gnarled claws in the growing darkness.

A bedroom light from the upstairs window that faced the street suddenly went out. In that moment, a low, sadistic chuckle pierced the silence of the night. Similar laughter echoed it as the lights on the street flickered on, illuminating the darkened streets with a sickly yellow light. A feral growl later and all lights were immediately extinguished.

The very ground that lay beneath the fearsome shadows began to shudder. It came to life quite unexpectedly, and rather slowly, as though it had lain dormant for many centuries and as though it made a point of putting on such a miraculous display for all heinous figures that stepped foot upon its concrete features. The creatures that stood before the house began to murmur; the faint buzz of fear rippled through the stale night air and whipped around them like an unwavering vortex of uncertainty. The figure that stood in the centre of the small force began to mutter indiscernible incantations. The figure's eyes glowed eerily in the darkness and darted wearily from the house to the ground beneath its feet. Time slowed down to an unbearable dull rhythm of quiet hissing and rustling of black fabric.

From out of the dark and from out of the ground shot a blinding light that pierced the frame of the head figure. His cry went unheard as the other figures clutched their ears frantically in blind panic, eyes squeezed tight against the unrelenting brightness that seemed to rob them of breath and caused their skin to itch treacherously underneath their stifling garments.

Lord Voldemort, snake eyes narrowed in obvious annoyance, walked passed the blinding light and up the pathway of the silent house. As suddenly as it had appeared, the fortress of light shot downwards into the earth it had sprung from- and with it, released the lungs of the dark figures, now clutching their chests, and their arms, in obvious agony. The Dark Lord sneered and cursed their own weakness, but even he could not deny the throbbing of his scorched foot as he repressed a shudder of absolute disgust. _Love_, or something like it, had barely singed him in its attempt to prevent him from entering this domain. This house, or what would be left of it, meant nothing to him. He had journeyed from Europe in the vein attempt to discover means of furthering his power and wreaking further havoc upon the muggle world. This house, standing silently and eerily foreboding, was little more than any other muggle inhabitance he had yet to come across. Yet, this was the first house to put up a sign of resistance before he had burned the structure into a pile of ash and dust.

The door was unlocked in a matter of instants, and the Dark Lord was met by an irritable sound of strange whooping sounds. His wand shot forward immediately, disintegrating the infernal muggle contraption that obviously was meant to warn the inferior creatures of unwanted characters, such as himself. Yet Voldemort was no mere creature. He glanced, with amusement, up the narrow staircase that obviously led to the chambers of his next victims. His blackened hand grasped the polished wood of the winding stairs and glanced up into silent blackness. He heard and saw nothing.

"_I am coming,_" he hissed.

Harry Potter sat, sullenly, in his room within the formidable unplottable structure of Grimmauld Place, staring at the walls, now freshly scrubbed and polished by the ever-domestic Mrs. Weasley who had, with good reason, made it a point to cleanse the house from top to bottom with her ever wondrous talent of thorough, precise and unrelenting determination of completing a task. Harry knew that cleaning was her only solace and he made no comment of it, especially when his own despair seemed to tear through him like a wild ravenous beast.

Despite the fresh air that floated through his room, Harry felt as though the knowledge of the recent death of his beloved mentor, Albus Dumbledore, would forever rid the world of any smells that could remotely be associated as pleasant. At meal times, despite the overzealous efforts of a quite distraught Mrs. Weasley, Harry's stomach churned at the smells that wafted through the kitchen and into his strongly protesting nostrils. How could he, or anyone for that matter, think of food now that Dumbledore was no longer with them? Harry felt the sharp stab of loss in his stomach as he felt the hot trickle of tears fill his eyes. His sniffed and the sound was quite loud in the silent room. It seemed to have gotten the attention of a rather bleary eyed portrait that hung beside the door. The figure in the portrait was slumped in his chair, black hair falling gracefully over his shoulders, as sorrowful eyes gazed at the crying boy in sympathy. Sirius' great-great-grandfather, after the news had finally sunken in, was quite distraught over the death of his favourite Headmaster, though he hid it quite well when he sat in the office of new Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. Phineas Nigellus cleared his throat, attempting, with reluctance, to exhibit his former sardonic self.

"If I may say so Potter, you are without a doubt, the most pathetic excuse for a heroic wizard I have ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on, and if my bloody great-great-grandson were here-"

"He'd tell you you're a right git for trying to work me up," finished Harry, raising his eyes to the frame. The corners of his mouth were lifted in a vain attempt of a smile. Yet, as Harry had not smiled in over a month, it came across more as a grimace. Nigellus watched the boy as he shifted restlessly on the bed, his head resting comfortably on the fluffy white pillows Mrs. Weasley had purchased for him a month before. The boy looked weak from hunger and his skin, already pale from having very little time to venture out of doors, was a stark contrast to the black hair that piled messily upon his head. Nigellus had grown rather fond of the boy and found himself often residing in his portrait at Grimmauld Place than his portrait in the Headmistress' office. Unlike the previous year, when Dumbledore had asked Nigellus to keep a close watch on Harry, Nigellus was not there under any order but his own. This knowledge had cheered Harry somewhat, when he first discovered that Nigellus was there because he "damned well felt like it and would you please mind your own bloody business, you obnoxious little Gryffindor." That had been the end of the discussion for quite some time.

"I don't suppose you would like to try…" began Nigellus hesitantly, but immediately cut himself off when Harry's eyes, already scarred with youthful tragedy, darkened and shuttered and his anger crackled in the still room. Nigellus huffed and gave Harry a look of deep annoyance and muttered mutinously,

"For Merlin sakes boy, it's time to grow up and get a bloody grip on yourself. He's dead, yes, I deeply empathize, but I believe it'd do you some greater good if you just _talked _to the old man." Nigellus' gaze was locked with Harry's and the portrait was about to begin another string of verbal attacks before he saw the boy's shoulders slump in defeat, chin lowered slightly, eyes suddenly soft in the warm glow of the room.

"Alright," was his childlike reply. Nigellus nodded his approval and immediately vanished from his frame. Harry stared unseeingly at the opposite wall. Then, with a force that caused Harry's chest to tighten against his lungs, hot liquid poured from emerald eyes as he rocked himself gently, squeezing his eyes against the onslaught of images that swirled precariously in his mind. Images of Dumbledore's smiling eyes, his blackened hand, the shattering moment he fell from the top of the Astronomy Tower, and more importantly, the day Harry had gone to visit Dumbledore in his office to divulge the encounter he had previously had with the Minister of Magic. _Scrimgeour_.

"_So that's why you argued!"_ Harry remembered himself exclaiming, interrupting Dumbledore's explanation of the meeting that had been planned to meet with him.

"_The prophet is bound to report the truth occasionally_," Dumbledore had answered, smiling over his half-moon spectacles. _"If only accidentally. Yes, that was why we argued. Well it appears that Rufus found a way to corner you at last."_

The memory appeared quite vividly in his mind's eye just then, and Harry curled up tighter, pressing his face against the white pillow, attempting to stifle a sob.

"_He accused me of being 'Dumbledore's man through and through'"._

"_How very rude of him."_

"_I told him I was."_

And Harry's eyes opened as he remembered the soft musical cry that Fawkes had emitted as Harry realized that Dumbledore's smiling blue eyes were watery behind his half-moon spectacles. Despite everything, despite the manipulation, subtle coercion into becoming the boy Dumbledore had expected him to become, despite all the hardships he had been forced to endure at the hands of the Durseleys, Harry felt a warmth rise up from within him as he recalled the embarrassment he had felt when he had witnessed tears of joy pool in Dumbledore's eyes and he knew, with painfully sharp realization, that he had loved the man dearly. And still did, till this day. Yes, despite everything, Harry knew that Dumbledore had been far more than a man who was intent on winning a war, or a man simply doing his duty. Harry knew that Dumbledore cared for him very much. And with the memory of those twinkling blue eyes, Harry broke into a series of fits as he struggled to breathe against the onslaught of emotion that wracked his frail body.

It was only then that he felt a surge of magical energy sear through the room and into his very soul, as he raised raw eyes to the portrait that was now occupied by the man Harry had been mourning over for the last month and a half. Dumbledore sat in Nigellus' chair, eyes bright with emotion that Harry had only seen once or twice before, as he gazed fondly at Harry. Dumbledore looked refreshed and younger than he had been when Harry had last seen him. He was smiling reassuringly at Harry, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles and Harry felt something stir from deep within him and then, as in answer, a smile appeared on his lips as he stared at the man in the portrait.

"My dear boy, I'm so glad you have decided to speak with me. I dare say I have missed you and your heroic adventures at Hogwarts," Dumbledore spoke as though Harry had been on a long journey and had not seen him in many years. It felt like that, in a way, and Harry was glad at the lightness and joviality in his tone. Harry set up on the bed, swinging his legs over the sides, wiping his eyes in embarrassment.

"Hullo, sir. I'm sorry I haven't…"

"Quite alright, Harry. Although, I must admit, I am rather surprised that my passing has upset you so. After all the times I have-"

"No," was Harry's brutal reply. "I understand now. I really do. And I just want to- to thank you, for everything you've done for me, and I…I never got the chance to…" Harry suddenly felt as though Dumbledore had died all over again. "Bloody hell…"

"I can assure you, Harry, that I was quite fond of you myself. It would have given me great pleasure to adopt you as my own grandchild," Dumbledore paused and took a deep breath, "but alas, I knew that the wizarding world would not take kindly to the act, and I believe it would have only placed you in greater danger."

Harry could understand why that was. Voldemort had already been aware of the parent-child bond that had formed between Dumbledore and Harry and had often made it a point to use this against both of them. Weakness, he called it. But Harry knew that without Dumbledore's kindness and meddling nature, Harry would not have developed into the man (or so he felt) that he was today. Harry got up from the bed and walked over to the portrait, and he stood face to face with his old mentor.

"Why didn't you let me help…" His words were but a whisper.

"I told you once my boy that the decision we must all face is between what is right, and what is easy. I could, under no conscience of my own, allow you to aid me in the events that unfolded that night that I fell from the Astronomy Tower from Severus' hand."

Rage. Blinding, hot, piercing, bone-crushing rage ripped through Harry and he struggled with the overwhelming urge to hit, to scream, to run, to tear the material from his body as he felt his skin crawl at the memory of his old Potions Professor, Severus Snape. The man who had supposedly looked out for Harry for the greater part of his life. The man that had attempted to teach Harry the art of potions and to demonstrate to him why Harry could no longer be coddled as he would have to face the most merciless wizard to ever walk the face of the earth. The man who, despite the protestations of most members of the Order and including Harry himself, Dumbledore had trusted most explicitly. Harry had never understood the reasoning behind that special trust that had developed between Dumbledore and Hogwarts' most loathed Professor.

"He murdered you. How could you let that happen! _He took you away from me!_" Harry knew he sounded petulant, even to his own ears, but the stubbornness that was innate within him held strong. He _would_ discover the reasoning behind Dumbledore's folly. There was no reason for Harry to lay in the dark about these matters and Harry knew that he deserved to know. Now more than ever. He needed to learn everything he could about his newly developed enemy. He had never known the blinding feeling of revenge until he learned that Voldemort had killed his parents. But the moment green light shot forth from Snape's wand and into the very heart of Albus Dumbledore, he had felt it once more, twice as strong, and twice as overpowering. He was sick with it.

"Ah, now we come to why I have been quite eager to speak to you…" Dumbledore spoke calmly, looking as though he'd very much like to reach out and ruffle Harry's hair. Harry felt another magical surge of energy run through his veins and he smiled softly, waiting.

"Well. To begin with, Severus and I had formed a special relationship of our own. I did after all allow him to start afresh when he came to me before the fall of Voldemort. I believe I have told you many times before that Severus was quite sick with grief when he learned that you had been what Riddle was after. When he learned that the prophecy Sybil had made concerned you. Or may have concerned you, for as you may remember, it was Voldemort who had marked you as his equal, and not Mr. Longbottom. But this information is no longer necessary, for everyone is aware of it. Back to the matter of Severus; he and I had devised a plan long before the dreadful night you and I returned from our journey to discover another horcrux of Voldemort. Long before the night Severus made the Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa Malfoy to protect her son Draco from Riddle's anger. There is a memory of which I must show you, but cannot at this moment. Minerva has placed my pensieve in safe keeping for the time being, until you are ready to view such memories that will help in the course of your future. For now, I will merely tell you this: on an evening like any another, Severus and I were walking near the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest and discussing, for what had to be the third time, the plan that I had meticulously devised to ensure both his and Draco Malfoy's safety. I told him that he must do as I asked and of course, Severus proceeded to rant and accuse me of being a meddling old fool. Yet before our argument reached another's ears, he had implied that he would do as I had asked, despite him being entirely against the whole matter. I told him that, if the time came, he would be forced to kill me. And he alone would be the cause of my immediate death."

The words hung heavily in the air as Harry stared, open-mouthed, at Dumbledore's portrait. This was…unbelievable. Dumbledore had _asked_ Snape to kill him? Absolutely bizarre.

"No more aberrant than dragging a group of underage wizards to the Ministry of Magic to fight a band of Death Eaters, of course?" Dumbledore asked, amusement bubbling in his light blue eyes. Harry blushed and managed to look sheepish.

"Our conversation was of course interrupted, by our groundskeeper, Hagrid, who looked rather abashed at having overheard—" Harry's gasp startled Dumbledore into silence. Dumbledore gazed at Harry intently, an eyebrow raised inquiringly. "Yes, Harry? Something strike you as important?"

"I…I _remember_ that. Hagrid _told_ us about that argument you had with Snape! I mean! Well, we sort of forced it out of him; he didn't _mean_ to tell us—"

Dumbledore held up a hand and Harry instantly desisted.

"Well that's perfectly fine, my dear boy. No harm done. This actually may help you in believing the story after all." And suddenly, it really _did_ make sense. Why else would Snape disagree so harshly with Dumbledore? Harry knew that Snape was not a nice man, nor was he an easy one to get along with. But Harry knew that Snape, despite everything, had probably been just as fond as Dumbledore as Harry had been himself. It really did make a lot of sense. Dumbledore must have been informed of Voldemort's plans for Malfoy by Snape himself, and they must have been devising a way to make sure that Malfoy was safe, and that Snape's position would not be compromised. Harry then remembered, quite vividly, when Dumbledore revealed who had aided him when his hand had been permanently destroyed.

"Snape healed you. When Slytherin's ring cursed your hand. You came to him; I remember. He helped you; you said he stopped the spread of the curse…he…saved your life." Dumbledore smiled and nodded, glad that Harry was following along. "And the Unbreakable Vow," began Harry again, "Did you know that would happen as well?"

"Not precisely Harry, but I was certain that Narcissa Malfoy would go to great lengths to keep her son safe from Voldemort. When Severus informed me of his Vow, it only hurried along our ready-made plan. Severus would have to follow through, rid the world of Albus Dumbledore, so he and Draco could remain alive and further aid you, Harry Potter, on your quest to defeat the most feared wizard of all time," Dumbledore stated, his flare for the dramatics quite obvious in his speech as he winked knowingly at Harry, who smiled uncertainly in return. It was rather all well and good, he supposed. Snape and Malfoy on their side after all. Now it was just a matter of getting them back to Hogwarts. And then immediately all hope of any future plans to co-exist with Snape and Malfoy fell through as Harry remembered that they would not be returning to Hogwarts, for now that Dumbledore was dead, Harry could no longer depend on him to discover and retrieve the lost pieces of Voldemort's soul. Dumbledore noticed Harry's look, and beamed at him.

"My boy, I believe, this is precisely what I have come to tell you. Being dead is not a complete loss, I can assure you. I have been made aware of very interesting news that I think you shall be most relieved to hear of. Harry—" Dumbledore paused, and gazed triumphantly into Harry's shining emerald eyes. "I'm coming _back_."

Harry stood, stunned to the spot. His breath had slowed, his head became momentarily weightless, and his knees felt as though they would give in any moment. _Coming back?_ There was no possible way. Even wizards, the most magical creatures on this earth, could not bring people back from the dead. Dumbledore had to be only playing with him. But it seemed such a cruel joke to play on a boy who was so obviously devastated from the string of losses in his life. After a solid two minutes, Harry finally found his voice.

"Sir," Harry began, "I can't understand what you mean…Surely you wouldn't have me believe that you…I mean, you're only a portrait and I don't mean that disrespectfully or anything. It's just…you're dead. How could you possibly…come _back?_"

Dumbledore gazed at Harry for a long moment, smiling serenely, his fingers steepled in their usual knowing grace. Harry blinked.

"Harry. Have I ever lied to you?"

Harry said nothing.

"I know I have kept information from you. I know I have, in the past, manipulated you. I know I have forced you to do things that you have not wished to do. Yet…despite everything I have done, within all those acts…have I ever lied to you?"

And that was all it took before Harry's mouth to twitch slightly before a grin spread across his face and his eyes sparked to life in a matter of seconds. He jumped up into the air, letting out a thrilled yell of excitement, before falling back to the ground with a heavy thud. He continued to let out yelps of joy and spun around recklessly, while Dumbledore laughed, deep affection laced with pure amusement, at Harry's rambunctious actions.

Harry was still spinning when six heads with bright red hair, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and one dark brown haired girl, Hermione, came bursting through the door to see what the commotion was about.

"Harry—" Mrs. Weasley began, looking flustered and completely startled.

"Yes!" Harry shouted, jumping onto the bed. "Everything's going to be okay!"

"Bloody hell. It's happened. I warned you, Hermione, I knew he was going to crack, and leaving him alone up here—" Ron muttered darkly, grimacing at Harry's antics, and was interrupted by Dumbledore, who cleared his throat.

Seven startled heads turned to look at him.

"I believe, Mr. Weasley, that Harry has some good news for you," and with that, Dumbledore exited the portrait, after winking at Harry knowingly. Harry grinned again and flopped down on the bed, his legs swinging over the sides. His cheeks were flushed and he looked happier than he had been in a long time.

"I know this sounds crazy—and I know it's insane for me to get all excited about it…but it's just incredible," breathed Harry in a rush. They all looked at him, twin looks of extreme confusion.

"Harry," said Hermione, "what's going on?"

Harry stared at all of them, before replying, with a cheeky grin,

"Dumbledore. He's coming back. For _real_."

The only sound heard after Harry's reply was a dull thud as Mrs. Weasley figure hit the ground and multiple startled gasps echoed around the room.

Falling through the veil had been one of Sirius' less painful experiences but it had left an awful feeling in the core of his being when he found himself on a plane of what appeared to be the place he had often dreamt of as a child growing up in the gruesome Black Manor. When he landed, he remembered the moments when he had been falling through space and time and wondered if fate had intended for him to be stuck in a dimension of consciousness but being unable to make sense of one's surroundings. After what felt like eternity, he had landed in this strange yet familiar place and found himself happily chasing rabbits and foxes in his animagus form, feeling free and more alive than he had in over thirteen years. At times, his mind would wander back to the events that led up to the moment when his life had been taken from him yet again when his darling cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange had caused him to fall, rather unceremoniously, through the ambiguous curtain that held no return for its victims. Now of course, Sirius had been rather put out by the fact that he had spent 13 long years in Azkaban, falsely accused, and therefore had deserved the chance to go running amuck, staring death in the face and laughing, or barking as the case may be, and enjoying his newfound relationship with his godson, Harry who had been so looking forward to living with him after all was said and done.

Sirius missed Harry and Remus most of all. Remus, for they had grown up together and had formed a bond of friendship and understanding that was as precious to him as the moment he had first been named godfather of James' only son. And that was why he missed Harry immensely too. For Harry represented what he had lost as a youth and was his sole chance to make up for the loss of James and Lily Potter. Unfortunately, things never seemed to work out for him as he had lost his life only two years after being freed from prison. Ironic, that, he surmised, as he lay, tiredly, in a mound of daisies and daffodils under a willow tree that shaded him from what appeared to be the afternoon sun. He cursed aloud and felt as though he were damned to this half-life existence from now until the apocalypse of human kind. He mourned at the loss of his future, at the one and only chance he could have had at having a son.

"I'd give anything to see Harry again," he whispered softly aloud. His eyes drifted slowly closed and began to drift into a peaceful sleep, or what would have been a well deserved nap, before the ground began to shift and roar as it twisted and morphed the scenery that Sirius had grown accustomed to. When everything had changed, Sirius was still sitting underneath the tree, but he was surrounded by complete emptiness. He stood up shakily and gripped the tree with claw like fingers. He swallowed slowly and took a deep breath. _Honestly_, he thought, _I'm dead, what more could possibly happen to me?_

As if in answer, ground began to sprout around the spot he occupied and Sirius watched in amazement as the grass and rocks and sky began to form back into his familiar landscape and he let out a sight of relief. _If this is payback for the time I almost killed Snape, I really don't understand all the fuss_…

A sudden 'pop' caught Sirius' attention and he blinked and shielded his gaze from the sun as he realized that he was no longer alone. A man, with flowing chestnut brown hair and deep blue eyes was peering at him with something akin to amusement as he stepped forward, standing mere feet from Sirius' still form. Sirius suddenly realized that his vision had not been blinded by that of the sun, but by this very man. He glowed, it seemed. And that was a very unnerving thought in itself. Yet the man looked neither dangerous nor intent on leaving Sirius alone, so Sirius waited expectantly for the man to speak.

"Sirius Black, I believe you are entirely misinformed," the figure stated calmly, smiling at Sirius, eyes twinkling in the noonday sun. Sirius gazed back at him, feeling as though he met the man before but felt that it had been quite an odd greeting indeed.

"Um. I hate to be rude and all, but since I am dead, and have been for some time, I hope you'll forgive me," Sirius began, half babbling, half determined, "But who in ruddy hell are you?" The other man chuckled good naturedly and waved his hand slightly and suddenly a rock appeared from out of the ground and the man sat down on it, eyes never leaving Sirius'. Sirius blinked again. _Alright. Not a muggle then_.

"I have many names. But, as I am well aware of the fact that you come from a rather highly educated and well known wizarding family, I believe you know me quite simple as _Merlin_." Sirius' eyes bulged.

"But," he spluttered, "How in the world…why…here…" Sirius trailed off feebly.

"How did I get here, why would I be here, and speaking to you of all persons, and more importantly, what news I have come to share with you?" The man asked, winking at Sirius as though he held all the secrets of the universe. Which, according to Sirius' background knowledge of this particular wizard, he most certainly did.

"Well, yes, that pretty much covers most of the questions, but bloody _hell_…" Sirius said, unashamedly. "I never thought you'd just…_show up!_" He threw his arms up in the air helplessly, looking all the world like a lost boy in the wilderness and yet all the eagerness of exploring unfamiliar territory.

"First off, I would like to point out to you that Harry was not your last chance at having a child. He was actually your second," Merlin said, eyes twinkling madly like those of Albus Dumbeldore. And suddenly Sirius laughed out loud.

"You know, you remind me of Albus Dumbledore, amazing wizard, lots of power, looked a lot like you when he was younger…_say_…" Sirius stopped and gazed at him, realization etching his features, "You wouldn't happen to be his great-great-great-great-great—" Sirius was cut off by a heartfelt laugh.

"Astute. Perhaps this shall be a lot less difficult than I thought." Merlin shook his head as though putting the matter aside. "We shall discuss this later though, for now I have something I must explain to you." Sirius nodded. It's not as if he would have argued otherwise. Really, _Merlin…_

"I believe I shall have to inform you of the history behind this matter, so bear with me. During my time, the fates had set before me a purpose that was laid out to the strictest and most meticulous detail. My purpose was to restore peace and balance to this Earth and ensure that the future of humanity was in good hands. At times, I felt as though this fate bestowed upon me was more than I could bear. Yet I triumphed and the fates rewarded me with eternal life with my true soul mate, Cassandra. Yet we were warned that our children would be stripped of their earthly magic. They ensured that no creature as powerful as myself would ever have the need to walk this earth again. A wise decision, no doubt. Yet as I'm sure you can surmise I was not the only magical being that existed during this period in history. Many magical beings, although not as powerful as myself, began to grow and migrated to many corners of the world. Magic continued to exist even though my bloodline remained powerless. The fates knew that a time would come when the power that was passed down from my children and to their children, would re-awaken when it was direly needed. The time came, surprisingly, many centuries later, when my great-great-great…well, many greats to be sure, grandson, Albus Dumbledore was born. The love shared between his parents rallied that of my own and Cassandra's. It was then that the magic within was restored and for good reason. The fates knew of another wizard that would upset the balance that had been kept for so many centuries."

"Grindelwald," stated Sirius.

"Correct. In 1945, Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald and was considered the most

powerful wizard of the century. Of many centuries to be sure. Albus was of course, in fact, a far more powerful wizard than Grindelwald's predecessor, Lord Voldemort."

Something in that statement did not sit well with Sirius. Moments passed and slowly, finding his voice, Sirius whispered,

"Was?" Merlin sighed softly and nodded.

"This is why I have also come. I shall explain in due time." Sirius nodded, eyes blank.

"Recent events have led to the unraveling of many things. One of which, happens to be the fall you took through the veil." Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"What would that have to do with everything else going on in the world?"

"Quite a bit actually. It just so happens that the fates had not intended for you to fall through that veil."

A moment of tense silence followed.

"You mean to tell me the fates made a _mistake?_" Sirius screeched in an undignified manner.

"So it would seem. When you fell through the veil, carefully threads of time had been unwoven and retied so that events no longer match up accordingly. When you changed the present, you unraveled the past, thereby changing the course of the future."

"But…but that makes absolutely no _sense!_" cried Sirius in disbelief.

"These things rarely do, my boy. But one must make do with what one has."

"Oh god, now you _sound_ like Albus…"

"I know this is difficult to understand. But I have some news that may interest you greatly, if you care to continue to listen to what I have to say."

"Yes, of course."

"A single distorted event can change everything, Sirius. When you fell, your past altered itself to refit to the moment of your death, thereby changing your entire lifespan. When this happened, a magical energy surged through time, metaphorically speaking, and infested itself into the safest place it could find. Which is why I must ask you, Sirius…have you ever slept with a woman?" Sirius spluttered, cheeks going red, eyes narrowed in resentment.

"I don't see how that's any of your business! Merlin or not, my private affairs are none of your—"

"Oh but they are, Sirius. The woman you slept with was no mere muggle. She was also of my bloodline. When you fell through the veil, that life energy surged back through time and came to rest in the place where it would grow and evolve into what would be the force that would restore balance to the future generations of the wizarding world. A child, Sirius. Your child."

Sirius felt as though he were falling through space and time again and almost welcomed the feeling for he felt as though any other information would split his skull in two. Imagine. Sirius Black. A _father_.

"_My_ child…to…I can't believe it. But I thought Harry-"

"That is one and the same prophecy. Your child, your daughter, I should say, is the weapon that was once discussed in the kitchen of your old home. Though at the time, it was something that was intangible and spoken only to confuse the children. Now, now that history has altered itself, it has come to mean something entirely different. Your daughter is now the only thing that will allow Harry to defeat Lord Voldemort. Through the one thing that he fears the most: _Love_."

And suddenly Sirius was seized with an overwhelming joy that he could not name and his body morphed itself into his animagus form and bounded excitedly around the amused Merlin, yelping and barking, bouncing off the trunk of the tree, coming to rest in front of the wizard again, and tail wagging with exhilaration.

"Ah Sirius, back to Dumbledore…" Sirius immediately turned back into his human form, sitting cross-legged, looking forlornly up at Merlin. He had almost forgotten about that.

"So he is dead then," said Sirius with deep regret.

"He is. For now." Sirius' head shot up at that, eyes wide and gleaming with barely restrained hope.

"What do you mean? Are you going to bring him back?" Merlin shook his head and Sirius' eyes lost a bit of their glow. "Then…how?"

"I will not bring him back. But your daughter will. Dumbledore was a powerful wizard, and one of the most brilliant minds to ever walk the face of this earth. But his powers have been mixed with many wizards throughout the generations. Your daughter was created in the single moment of magical energy that was created with your fall. Her magic is untainted, so to speak. She could very well be my own daughter, for her magic is as pure and as earthbound as my own."

Sirius knew that falling through the veil had been the cause of his most instantaneous death, but suddenly, in the setting sun of this plane of distorted reality, he really didn't mind all that much. For he knew, on the other side of the veil, the boy he had loved as much as a son, and a daughter that possessed the gift of Merlin, would one day meet. And when they did, perhaps everything would be alright again. Sirius was sure that nothing more wonderful could happen, until Merlin next spoke.

"Sirius, would you like to meet your daughter?"

The enthusiastic sound of his bark like laugh echoed through the air.

Please review! If you do, I'll write a special story for you, or a special scene and plug it into my story ! I'm begging you here!

Madi Black


	2. Appearances are deceiving

AN: Yes it has been a long time—surprise! I finally sat down to finish the next chapter and have planned out the rest. Hopefully this will encourage more readers. Thanks for reading so far. ~MB

Chapter 2: Appearances are deceiving

The Great Hall was silent when Albus Dumbledore stood at the front of the room, in his usual spot at the head table. It was the first day back at Hogwarts and the room was tense with anticipation. The students gazed at him, mouths open and eyes wide in astonishment. The Daily Prophet had been splattered with stories about Dumbledore's resurrection and everyone was curious as to how this mysterious event transpired. All had been at his funeral; all watched his tomb explode with fire and disappear from sight. Yet here he was, younger than they remembered him, more sprightly and cheerful than they had ever seen him. He was smiling, eyes twinkling knowingly at their looks and hushed whispers.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter sat and watched, amused, as his beloved mentor spread his arms wide as he requested the attention of everyone in the room. To Harry's left sat Ron who was staring at Dumbledore while whispering out of the corner of his mouth that _this better not be a long speech_ whereupon Hermione, who sat across from Harry, kicked Ron under the table for being rude. Ron glared but immediately stopped talking. Hermione then twisted slightly so she too could face the staff table.

"Good evening students," Dumbledore smiled, surveying the room. His beard, which had been long and white the last time they had seen him, was now dark and barely an inch out from his jaw; his snow white hair had been restored to its original chestnut brown, slightly whitening at his temples. His skin glowed fresh, no longer wrinkled with age and the once blackened hand was now fully formed and as graceful as the other. Dumbledore looked and spoke like a well-preserved 50 year old man—barely middle-aged in wizarding years. He truly was awe-inspiring. Everyone in the room could feel a soft tug around them. The older students knew that this was Dumbledore's magic but the younger students looked alarmed at the feeling.

"Many of you have already read the Daily Prophet and have been informed of my return. I can assure you it is not of my own doing. The person I owe my newly given life to is, I am delighted to say, on their way here and will be joining us for dinner. The reason of my return, and their coming, will be revealed in due course. I hope you are all as happy to see me as I am to see you," and here he paused and glanced at the Gryffindor table from the corner of his eye, "but I'm sure you're all eager to eat and so—tuck in!"

Dinner appeared and everyone in the room proceeded to pile their plates with everything they caught sight of—Ron piling his plate higher than anyone else—and proceeded to discuss this new and exciting occurrence.

It came as no surprise that half the hall was trying to see Harry's reaction to this turn of events and of course, many of them were disappointed as Harry had obviously already been aware of it. As to whom Dumbledore was referring to, Harry had no idea—that was something that Dumbledore decided to keep close to his chest, despite Harry's demand for knowledge. But Dumbledore, as mysterious as ever, told him, in his usual mysterious way, that Harry had indeed already been aware of who this person was—at least subconsciously—and that fact startled Harry for Voldemort's thoughts often stirred within Harry's own subconscious and he wondered if Voldemort truly was as conceited as all that—to bring Dumbledore back to life in the hope to meet him once more, face to face, and actually finish the job himself. But that was silly because Dumbledore said the person was coming to dinner and Harry really didn't think Dumbledore was _that_ eccentric.

What unnerved Harry was that Dumbledore's killer, Severus Snape, was now currently seated at the staff table, to Dumbledore's right. Draco Malfoy, an accomplice to the same crime, sat at the Slytherin table, with a new group of friends. Although Crabbe and Goyle were still with him, having been unable to truly grasp the wish of their fathers in avoiding the Malfoy boy, they stuck to him like glue and proved to be far greater friends than that of Nott or Bulstrode. Pansy Parkinson, unfortunately under the influential thumb of her father, sat beside Blaise Zabbini, continuously eyeing the blond haired boy. She was obviously genuinely sorry to have parted from him for her eyes were wide with tears at Malfoy's apparent dismissal of her.

Of course Harry had to have come to terms with Snape and Malfoy's return for they appeared in Dumbledore's office only a few short hours before the feast, while Harry, Ron and Hermione were present as well. It had been painful, to say the least, to be in the same room as the two men but Harry had done everything he could to stifle his anger. For, despite all this, Dumbledore was indeed alive—and healthier than ever—that Harry could see no reason to truly resent Snape or Malfoy.

Draco had been, on the whole, deeply sorry about what happened and as far as Harry could tell—and of course he had witnessed Draco lower his wand—that he was remorseful of all that had transpired. Snape had been a lot harder to read but Hermione, being her usual self, nudged Harry to the point of annoyance, whispering heatedly that Dumbledore had already presented the evidence of Snape's loyalty, having all witnessed themselves the full conversation between Dumbledore and Snape—the one Hagrid had anxiously told them about a few months before.

So Dumbledore had already been dying. So Snape had, against his will, agreed to end his life to ascertain his place at the Dark Lord's side to protect Malfoy from certain death if he failed. So Harry had been, as usual, too quick to judge Snape's true allegiance. So it really had all made perfect sense.

But Snape had been rather cruel that year and extremely underhanded so before Harry had, at least in front of witnesses, agreed that Snape was indeed on their side, he had shouted, ranted and raved at the man, while Ron and Hermione had attempted to restrain him. Draco had looked frightened at Harry's anger but smartly said nothing while Snape's lip only curled at the sight of Harry flying off the handle, losing track of his emotions once more. And, like Draco, remained quiet, realizing too that it would be better off for Harry to indulge in these useless emotions, however steadfastly refusing to apologize for anything he may have done to the ungrateful brat. After all, he had saved Harry, again, from Bellatrix in her attempt to crucio his behind from there to the next world.

Dumbledore, now younger, though still patient as he ever was, also let Harry shout these accusations until he was red in the face. Hermione, horrified at Harry's behaviour, scolded him under her breath about his language, whispering that it was alright now as Dumbledore was alive.

"Oh and what if he hadn't been brought back, eh? What if he had been left for dead? I suppose I'd be expected to go off and destroy all the horcruxes without any clue as to what they might have been? You didn't even leave me a bloody note!"

Dumbledore produced evidence of that as well, having said it had been a timed thing, wanting to give Harry ample recovery before he sent him off on a mission to find the missing pieces of Voldemort's severed soul. Harry had only lazily glanced over the documents, Hermione and Ron too looked at their gifts from Dumbledore. The book of wizarding fables of course had intrigued Hermione, saying that the adventure would have probably taken them very far from Hogwarts and near very real danger. Ron looked puzzled at the idea that Dumbledore would entrust _him_ to go on a mission such as this and suddenly felt the true weight of the war upon his mind. One of them could have died—in fact, they might have _all_ died, for surely they would have gone stir crazy being away from Hogwarts, continuously racking their brains for the missing items.

Of course, after much discussion on the items at large, Harry finally produced the note he had found inside the locket that he and Dumbledore had found together, on the eve that Dumbledore had lost his life. A new flood of memories assaulted Harry as he produced the item, scornfully stating, again, that it had all been for nothing.

Whereupon Snape immediately interjected that it had most certainly _not_ been for nothing as Dumbledore had already _been_ dying _you stupid ignorant child_. Harry had held his tongue at those words, for the first time since entering the room, but he glared hatefully at the Potions Master, his pride bristling at the condescending tone.

Dumbledore informed Harry that the note was from Regulus Black, Sirius' brother, who, right before his death, had redeemed himself in his attempt to destroy the horcrux and assured Harry that the missing item could be found at Number 12 and he would fire call Molly Weasley immediately to ensure that Mungdungus Fletcher did not get his hands on the item before then.

It was then going on dinner time and Dumbledore dismissed the four students, telling Snape to stay behind. The four students—Harry, Ron, Hermione and Malfoy—had awkwardly walked out of Dumbledore's office, down the stairs and towards the Great Hall together. Hermione had been the only one out of the Gryffindor trio to make conversation with Malfoy and he, in his new state of mind, actually allowed her by answering all her questions, though asking none himself. Even Ron gazed at Malfoy with something akin to acceptance for the blond no longer displayed any of the previous haughty and scornful glares and nodded his head every so often when Malfoy told them, albeit hesitantly, what he witnessed when they returned to Malfoy manor and how he stood before the Dark Lord and pleaded for his life.

"Even though Dumbledore had successfully been killed, Voldemort threatened to kill you?"

"_Hermione_," Ron had hissed as both he and Draco shuddered at the name. "Leave it, will you? I really don't think Malfoy wants to talk about what You-Know-Who said. Would you?"

"Thank you, Weasley," was Malfoy's soft reply, smiling slightly at Hermione and shrugging his shoulders. "It's alright, you know, Granger. If you want, we could meet up sometime. I reckon it'd do me some good to talk to someone about the nightmare that is my life."

They all had stopped then, gazing from one to the other. Hermione and Ron had anxiously looked at Harry, who had remained silent throughout their entire exchange. Draco however stared hard at Harry's shoes, not wanting to catch his eye.

"Why are you looking at me like that Hermione? I was the one who told you Malfoy didn't do anything. Sure we'll be around to chat, Malfoy. No point being strangers anymore, I suppose."

With that, Harry stuck out his hand and when he did, Malfoy immediately glanced up. He looked at Harry as though he had grown two heads but resolutely stuck out his hand, shaking it firmly. Hermione beamed and Ron rolled his eyes at her. Malfoy did his best to hide a smile.

"Now Hermione, you know Malfoy still wants me dead. I did try to kill him after all," Harry drawled, in what appeared to be an attempt of Malfoy's haughty tone.

"Oh is that what you were doing?" Malfoy mocked, raising a perfectly arched brow at him. "Seemed more like child's play to me, Potter."

"You just watch your back Malfoy and I'm sure you'll be just fine."

"Right back at you, Potter."

Ron snickered and then held his stomach, groaning loudly that he was starving.

It was then they had decided to part ways, lest the four of them be seen together coming into the hall. It was already bad enough the school was in a whirl about Snape being back at Hogwarts, even though his name had been cleared by Dumbledore. Of course Voldemort had been furious—it had been all over the Daily Prophet after all—and Harry's scar had burned in agonizing pain for days but on the whole it had gone rather flawlessly.

Now back in his present state of mind at the Gryffindor table, Harry was still at a loss as to how Dumbledore had returned from the grave and he had been contemplating that very thought when suddenly he heard laughter from overhead.

"Is that..." Hermione had stopped eating and looked up at the ceiling where the night sky, illuminated with stars, shone above them.

"Coming from up there?" Harry finished, gazing open mouthed at the ceiling that now began to change.

Although the ceiling didn't change all that much, Harry suddenly felt a cool burst of wind. He could smell the night air and knew that someone had spelled the ceiling open. But who?

The laughter got louder and suddenly Harry heard Hagrid's voice call out in the distance.

"_Madi, no! Dun' worry abou'it!_"

That was when Harry saw what looked like to be an egg the size of a bowling ball drop down from the ceiling and following close behind it was a figure, wrapped in a large cloak. Harry could barely make out who was underneath the cloak for it had whizzed down so fast, arm outstretched. The figure spun a few times, robes billowing in the air before they grasped the egg, pulling the egg to its side, cradling it carefully. Without stopping, the figure hurled towards the Great Hall doors. Harry's eyes widened and most of the Great Hall gasped when, instead of crashing into the doors, the figure disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Beside him, Harry heard Ron exclaim "What the bloody hell was that!"

"Whatever it was," Hermione whispered in awe, "they just broke through one of Hogwart's wards."

"Whoever it was," exclaimed Ginny from down the table, "They're a brilliant seeker!"

"Hopefully he's not in Gryffindor then," Ron said, smiling at Harry. "We've already got the best!"

"And what makes you so sure it's a boy, Ronald?" Hermione asked coolly, eyes narrowing to slits.

"Well," Ron said, looking embarrassed, "I just know these things. Their skill on a broom—perfect form and all that. I'm positive it's a bloke!"

"And I'm positive it's a _girl_," Hermione said heatedly.

"And what makes _you_ so sure?" Ron said, face red.

"The cloak of course."

"What? An emerald green cloak? Harry has emerald green robes, don't you Harry?"

Before Harry could reply, Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil giggled.

"She means the form of the cloak, Ron. It was obviously a girl's cut."

Harry and Ron looked at her blankly. "How could you see the kind of _cut_ it was?" exclaimed Ron. "It went by so bloody fast!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We're girls Ron. We _know_ these things."

Ron was about to retort but the Great Hall doors suddenly burst open and Hagrid, who appeared out of breath and very alarmed, came striding in. Realizing where he was, he stopped and wrung his hands.

"Professor Dumbledore, I—I'm sorry abo'that. The egg sort of dropped y'see and Madi, well, she offer'd t'get it fer me."

"That's quite alright, no harm done," Dumbledore said over the whispers of everyone in the hall, eyes twinkling. "And where is Miss Black, Hagrid? I'm sure she's hungry after such a long flight."

There was a long pause after this statement for Harry suddenly dropped the goblet that he had been holding and all eyes turned to look at him. His mouth was open and he was looking at Dumbledore as though he had grown two heads.

After Sirius passed through the veil, he was proclaimed innocent by the Ministry and that was when everyone had learned that Sirius had been Harry's godfather. But no one had ever mentioned anything about there being another Black. He'd seen the Black Family tree—and there was no mention of anyone named Madi on it.

"I offered to apparate with Hagrid, Albus, but he seems to think I might have splinched him in my state of duress."

The voice, both obviously feminine and extremely amused, seemed to come from behind Hagrid and when Hagrid had heard it, moved aside. The figure, still wearing the emerald green cloak, was hidden from everyone in the hall for her hood kept her face in shadow. She stepped forward, broom in hand.

"Ah, Miss Black, there you are. It seems that Hagrid is now in your debt for the service you've rendered him."

"Indeed," the girl said, looking up at Hagrid. "Though I must say, it is I who is actually in his debt."

"Oh?" was Dumbledore's amused reply.

"He happened upon me right when I needed it most. My parents' home was invaded by Death Eaters."

Murmurs and looks of awe, followed by many students trying to get a better look at the newcomer. Then silence.

"I see," said Dumbledore, standing up and silently beckoning her forward. "Were you hurt?"

There was something unnatural in Dumbledore's tone, something Harry had never heard before. His voice was almost hoarse as he spoke and his eyes, no longer twinkling, shone with deep emotion.

"Voldemort made an attempt on my life. He also murdered my muggle parents," she said, her cloak suddenly disappearing with a simple wave of her hand, the broom vanishing with it. The girl's hair, now freed from its confinements under the hood, cascaded loosely down her back. Long black curls framed the girl's face—a face that was as white as marble. She wore an off-the-shoulder emerald gown and quite near her left shoulder was a lightning bolt mark. It looked like it had been branded into her skin—the shape's thickness was no bigger than a wand.

Everyone in the hall was now deathly quiet, watching her approach towards the head table with looks of horror. Harry, who now had a better view of the girl, could see the mark on her pale skin and his blood ran cold. He looked at the girl's eyes, which were now locked with Dumbledore's, and he nearly jumped out of his seat.

Those eyes. He had seen them before. Many times, in his dreams—those eyes, which now looked deadly in their current state, had once looked at him with loving kindness. When he lived with the Durseleys, he had dreamt of those eyes and this very girl. She had been his imaginary friend and he talked to her when he was alone and ended up in rather unfortunate situations. She was with him when he had found himself on the roof of a building, trying to avoid Dudley and his horrible friends. She had talked to him when he cried, thinking about his parents, locked in the cupboard under the stairs. It had been so long since he had dreamt of her that he had almost forgotten she had been such an important part of his life. And now here she was, right in front him, bearing the same mark on her shoulder as he did his forehead. He thought he was dreaming once more.

"A present from him," her curls shook and caught the light as she lifted her left shoulder.

A movement caught the emerald-eyed girl's gaze and she shifted her eyes to the figure that had disturbed her thoughts.

Snape. He was looking at the girl as though he knew her. Harry was struck at how Snape, whose features were normally etched with disdain, disgust or hatred, now looked anxious, unnerved and—something else, something Harry couldn't quite make out. But it _looked_ like he actually _cared_.

"Severus?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice. In a hardened tone, she continued, "Why are you here?"

So they did know each other. But how? And why did she sound extremely angry?

"Is it just me," whispered Hermione, startling Harry out of his thoughts, "Or does it look like Snape is _fond_ of her?"

"_No!_" hissed Harry, as quietly as possible. "Snape doesn't find joy in anything except his potions and making our lives a living hell."

"He probably is, the pervert," Ron muttered darkly. "I mean _look_ at her."

Harry didn't quite understand why he suddenly felt like he wanted to kill Snape. Well, more so than he usually did.

Snape looked at Dumbledore and his eyes burned with absolute fury. Finally, he turned his gaze back to the young woman in front of him, his features painfully distorted and replied, in a voice so quiet Harry could barely hear, "I am a Professor here, Miss Black."

Before Harry knew what was happening, everything on the table began shaking as though an earthquake had just hit Hogwarts. Some of the floating candles flew into each other, a great deal of them extinguishing with a sudden gust of wind. Harry felt a sharp ripple through the air and knew he wasn't the only one for many of the other students gasped aloud.

"Merlin she's powerful," whispered Hermione, trying to keep her goblet from spilling over. Ron looked as white as a ghost, the beauty of the girl immediately forgotten.

"Madison," Dumbledore whispered soothingly and everything stopped shaking. "I think it's better if we moved this conversation elsewhere." Dumbledore then stood up and addressed the hall.

"Please enjoy the rest of your meal and I hope you all have an excellent evening."

Harry could tell Dumbledore regretted having let the conversation go that far amidst the student population which was why he was trying to leave as fast as possible. Harry watched, in annoyance, Snape follow him. Harry would have thought they would have gone out the side door for a quick exit but it seemed as though Dumbledore had other plans.

Madison reached the Gryffindor table first and stood near Harry, waiting for Dumbledore and Snape to catch up with her. When Dumbledore stood before him, Harry was struck dumb. He had no idea why Dumbledore would approach him now.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling once more. "I hope you don't mind if I steal you away from your dinner. If you haven't finished, you're more than welcome to ask Dobby to bring something else to you later this evening."

Harry could only shake his head as he stood up from the table. He paused and was about to ask Dumbledore a question but Madison beat him to it. He heard a soft chuckle and then,

"Of course Ron and Hermione can come too."

Harry looked at her, startled. Without question, Ron and Hermione rose obediently, both looking flustered at having their names pronounced by a complete stranger.

Harry looked at Madison curiously, as though afraid to say anything. She smiled at him when Hermione and Ron joined him at his side.

"You are an open book, Harry Potter."

Behind her, Snape snorted derisively and muttered something that Harry didn't quite catch. Harry knew it was probably something about his inability to grasp Occulmency.

With that, they left the Great Hall, aware of the many eyes that followed them out. One set of eyes belonged to Malfoy, who had, like everyone else, been looking at Madison with keen interest. Yet his had more purpose for he too, like Harry, had seen her before but not in dreams—she had been the one to save him from Malfoy Manor, the very night the Dark Lord had threatened to kill him.

She had accosted him in his chamber while he was sleeping and stifled his gasp of surprise with her hand. Holding a candle to his face, she whispered quietly that she had come to take him from Malfoy Manor. She said she was told to inform him to find Snape and then use the portkey (which was a small brooch that she handed him) to escape. Without looking at it, he placed it in his pyjama pocket.

"Do you know who Snape is?" she asked. Draco nodded hard and said he was just down the hall. She looked puzzled and Draco thought she was going to ask him something else but decided to let it go.

She told him the portkey would take them immediately to Dumbledore. Draco shot her a look of horror whereupon she rolled her eyes and told him that Dumbledore was alive and to do what he was told.

She moved away from him as he got up to go collect his belongings. When he was standing, he looked around and noticed she was gone, the candle she had been holding left on his bedside table. After shrinking everything he needed, he cast a _silencio_ on his feet and vacated his room. When he reached Snape's door, he listened carefully. The house was silent. He pushed open Snape's door and had found himself face to face with the man himself.

The door was shut silently behind him and Draco found yet another light shoved into his face—this time by a wand.

"Are you alright, Draco?" Snape's features were waxen in the light of the wand and Draco suspected Snape hadn't gone to sleep that night.

"I will be," Draco muttered as he pulled the brooch from his pocket and held it to Snape. "It's from—" Draco paused and realized he had not asked the name of the girl. "Damn. Well, she said it was from Dumbledore—yes, from Dumbledore!—and it's a portkey. It'll take us to him."

"Draco, you have been careless. What if the girl had been Bellatrix disguised to out us to the Dark Lord? That aside, you know as well as I do that Dumbledore is dead."

Draco looked at him with a sour expression, not willing to accept the loss of newfound hope.

"Just look at the brooch, will you?" Draco thrust the object into Snape's view.

Snape shone the light over the brooch. Draco watched his face carefully. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

"One moment. Let me gather my things."

Draco would have asked what made him change his mind. It was just a brooch after all and Snape hadn't cast any spells. Probably it was something significant between him and Dumbledore. To think, Dumbledore alive and helping them escape!

"I'm ready. When you are, hold onto my wrists tightly and press both your thumbs onto it, the way I am."

Draco did as he was told and as soon as the pads of this thumbs touched the brooch, they were whisked away but not before Draco had seen that the broach he had been carrying was an emerald and bore the markings _M.B._

As the people around him talked heatedly about Dumbledore and the arrival of this mysterious girl, Draco wondered why Madison had been shocked to see Severus sitting at the table. She had been sent to fetch both him _and_ Snape after all. So why was she surprised? The initials on the brooch were hers—so why did Snape look shocked to see it?

Whatever the reason was, Draco realized he now had a family member with whom he could easily trust and she was, without a doubt, both powerful and beautiful—and who would, no doubt, inherit the Black family fortune.

Harry found it somewhat amusing that they were heading to Dumbledore's office when they had already been there a few hours before. However, this time, far more subdued given the new information they had just received.

Madison's parents were killed by Voldemort and he had no less than branded her. Harry felt a strong sense of empathy for the girl, having also lost his parents to Voldemort. Now that Voldemort had branded her as well, in a different way of course, he would perhaps come for her next. But Harry brushed aside these thoughts. Surely Voldemort, as conceited as he was, wouldn't have let her walk away without taking her own life. So her parents had been muggles—she therefore could have no relation to Sirius and suddenly Harry felt disappointed.

"Things are not always as they appear, Harry," was the mysterious whisper in his ear. Yet the owner of the voice, which he knew so well, was in front of him, walking beside Snape, her gaze on what was in front of her. His anxious look gained Hermione's attention and she mouthed _What?_ to him. He didn't know what exactly happened so he shrugged and rolled his eyes, flashing an amused smile. She gave him an odd look but didn't try to press the matter.

Harry noticed that Madison and Snape were at the head of the group and were walking very fast—so fast, that Harry, Ron and Hermione struggled to keep up. At the top of the stairs, Dumbledore's door had burst open—with what appeared to be its own will and just as Harry, Hermione and Ron barely got into the room, the door shut with an ominous _BANG!_ Madison, who had first seemed cool and aloof on their walk to Dumbledore's office, now whirled around, her gown flowing with the sudden twist of her body—her heated glare coming to rest upon the now murderous looking Snape.

"_How dare you_," she hissed and Harry felt a chill run through his body. He looked at Ron and Hermione for some explanation but they were transfixed on the scene before them, their eyebrows raised passed their hairlines.

"I've already explained to you—"Snape began, drawing up to his full height, his black eyes becoming even blacker as he spoke.

"YOU LIED TO ME!" Many items in the room flew into the walls, shattering as they did. The floor itself was humming as though some unearthly machine was passing through the vicinity.

There was a long silence in which Dumbledore moved to his chair and sat down, completely unmoved by the breakage of his possessions. Harry saw him grab a lemon drop and lean back in his chair, watching the argument unfold. It was strange to see Dumbledore so accommodating with all these bursts of anger—Harry remembered that Dumbledore had let him tear apart his office but he normally didn't let people go at each other like cats and dogs.

"Miss Black, if you would kindly control your temper—"

"Don't you dare speak to me in that tone, _Severus_—if that actually is your real _name_?"

"You were only a muggle then. I had to take certain precautions—"

"_Precautions?_ We're ENGAGED!"

"Eugh!" this exclamation did not come from either Snape or Madison—but from Ron, who looked like he swallowed an egg. Snape glared at him and Ron looked petrified. "Engaged, right, nothing out of the ordinary about that…what does age really matter nowadays..."

"Who are you really?" Madison asked, stepping closer to Snape, ignoring Ron's outburst.

"My name is Severus Snape," the Potions Master said grudgingly. "My parents were Tobias Snape and Eileen Prince. My mother was a witch and my father a muggle. When I told you I was a chemistry professor, it wasn't far from the truth—I am a professor at this school but of Potions. And of course, as you can plainly see, I am a wizard."

"And you would have married me without revealing any of these facts?" Madison asked, chin raised defiantly.

"I would have told you. After we were married."

"Our marriage would have been a lie."

"No. It wouldn't have."

There was a long pause where the two people gazed at each other, as though they were reading each other's thoughts.

"So you still wish to marry me?"

Snape looked pained. "Things have become complicated—"

"Now that I am more powerful and possess different parentage, you no longer wish to marry me?"

"Do not put _words_ into my mouth _child_—"

"How _dare_ you call me child! Do you think I _asked_ to be placed in this body? Do you think I asked for this responsibility? If you only knew—"

"Oh I have been made very much aware," was Snape's cryptic response. Madison seemed to read it in his face and suddenly turned on Dumbledore.

"What have you done you meddling old man? You're no better than Merlin himself."

This would have been a rather odd thing to say if the very man mentioned hadn't appeared, very much from nowhere, at her side.

"My dear, I believe you are forgetting your manners."

"I am _not_ your dear," Madison breathed quietly. "I will not be used in this way. You have been most unfair. You never told me that Severus and Snape are the very same person—"

"Severus did help my cause in that—"

"That is _besides_ the point!" The room shuddered, the portraits dangled from their places on the wall, then all became still. "You knew I was engaged to Severus when you entered my life. You gave me strict instructions to discontinue speaking to him—"

"And you chose to _listen to him?"_ Snape's face was red with anger and he started to reach for his wand.

"I would not attempt that Severus," Dumbledore murmured quietly, speaking for the first time since they all entered the room. "He meant you no harm."

"No harm," Snape scoffed, placing his wand back into his sleeve, "Forbidding a person to speak to their own fiancé. And _you_," Snape said, turning his anger on Dumbledore, "_Failed _to mention that the mysterious Miss _Black_ was none other than Miss Belle, _my fiancé!"_

A gasp was heard and Madison looked round at Dumbledore.

"You didn't _tell_ him?"

"He was under instructions to withhold that information," Merlin said, waving his hand dismissively. "Besides, now you are both aware of the situation and Severus will soon understand the _necessity_ in stepping aside. You must fulfill your duty, Madison. You have no choice. As I have already told you many times, we all must make sacrifices in war."

"You ask the impossible," Madison said, "I cannot do what you ask of me. I rather _die_."

"And so you shall, unless you do what is expected of you."

Snape's eyes widened and then he turned from Dumbledore to Merlin. "She will die unless she fulfills the prophecy?" Snape asked. Dumbledore nodded gravely but Merlin remained silent.

Snape looked at Madison, his expression blank. Madison's eyes were wide and full of tears when she spoke, "Will you stand by and do nothing Severus?"

"What else can you expect from a coward?" said the familiar voice of Sirius Black who stepped forth from the shadows. He was not fully flesh nor was he spirit—he was somewhere between the land of the living and the lost.

"Sirius!" Harry shouted and darted forward. Cold arms encircled him but Harry held on for dear life. Snape sneered at his departed enemy. Madison stared at them impassively.

"Harry, have you met my daughter?" These words caused Snape to cringe and step further away into the shadows. She looked at him, first in dismay then in anger. She walked towards Sirius and Harry and bowed her head.

"Well, not exactly," Harry said, looking from Sirius to Madison. "I didn't know you had a daughter."

"Neither did _I,_" Snape whispered furiously. "But this was your plan all along, no doubt, to keep me from attaining a shred of happiness. Of all people, you had to make her the daughter of this _dog_."

Sirius was across the room in an instant and the two men glared at each other, almost nose to nose.

"What do you mean make her? Isn't that sort of thing…unavoidable?" Harry asked, examining Madison as though she were a specimen.

"Don't you _dare_ look at her, Potter!" Snape said hotly, seconds from bounding across the room to attack Harry.

"He can look at her all he likes!" shouted Sirius, blocking Snape's path. "It's his right, more than yours."

"I am not something to be _looked_ at and no _Father_, Harry does _not_ have any more right than Severus. Severus is my _fiancé_, something you have been carefully avoiding since you found _out_."

"How typical, Black, to deny your only daughter the one thing she wants most in the world."

"You lost Lily to James too—you shouldn't be surprised to lose another woman to a Potter."

At that moment, two different waves of magic hit Sirius—one was dark red and the other a shimmering opal. It seemed to simultaneously silence and freeze Sirius to the spot. After a few moments, Madison waved her hand and Sirius was free to move.

"Madi!" Sirius exclaimed, looking scandalized. "I could expect something like that from _him_ but not from _you!_"

"Oh don't start," Madison said, glaring at Sirius. "You had no right to say that to Severus. He won't be losing me to anyone. We're _going_ to be married."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Not without my permission."

"I'm twenty-six years old. I no longer need your permission."

"Actually," said Merlin, moving towards Madison's side, "You have lost 10 years since becoming Sirius' daughter. I'm sure you've already noticed the change to your appearance."

Madison wrapped her arms around her middle, looking at the floor. It was apparent she was unhappy with these changes, especially the ten years she had lost for now she was most unfortunately under the control of her newly found father.

"This match was made before you were my father," Madison whispered, "And permission was granted then. Whether my body is 16 or not, my heart and mind are that of a twenty-six year old and I have chosen to be with Severus."

"There you have it Black, your daughter has chosen _me_ and not that conceited godson of yours," Snape said smugly. "Prophecy or not, her feelings are quite clear."

"I rather be sent back through the veil than see her marry you!"

"I can gladly arrange that," Snape growled, his wand appearing once more.

"You're all clearly making her upset, you know," Harry said, standing by Madison awkwardly, who was now trying to hide the tears falling from her eyes. The only answer he was met with was a sneer from Snape, a mumbled apology from Sirius and an amused smile from Dumbledore. Ron and Hermione too were standing awkwardly by. Merlin cleared his throat.

"I think perhaps if you had a little more time to think about this—"

"I've known about this for months now," Madison said, her voice like steel. "My answer remains the same."

"And you Severus? Would you let this child throw her life away in a pure act of selfishness? Surely you think she deserves better."

But Snape did not answer. He was already headed towards the door and slammed it violently shut. He had not looked back.

"See! There Madi, he's given you up freely," Sirius said cheerfully. "Now you can enjoy being young again and spending time with your father—and of course, Harry."

"He hasn't _given me up_," Madison said, her eyes narrowing to slits. "He's gone off to get drunk. And if you'll _excuse_ me—I have better things to do with my time than cater to manipulative old men!"

With that, she was gone and Sirius looked around, startled. "Where did she go? Someone should find her and speak to her."

"I believe Harry knows where she is," was Merlin's only goodbye as he too disappeared from sight.

All remaining eyes turned to Harry and he blushed, scratching the back of his head.

"I er…believe she's on the roof."


End file.
